


The Immediate Aftermath

by orphan_account



Category: The Princess Switch (2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Kissing, One Shot, Romance, Schmoop, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 12:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Stacy and Edward have decided to give their relationship a try. But first, they have to sort out the mess they got themselves into.______“Are you sure about Stacy?”, Kevin asked him. “She is kind of a handful.”They looked over to where Stacy was not only talking to their airline on her cell phone, but was also simultaneously looking up other flight connections and organizing a stand-in for the bakery on Kevin’s phone, which she had forced him to hand over.How Edward adored her.“More and more sure,” he replied.





	The Immediate Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> If you are one of the three people who read this work when I published it the first time, I am sorry to have subjected you to this once again.
> 
> This is pure, substanceless, schmaltzy fluff. Lots of feels. Not a lot of action. Nobody even takes their clothes off. (I realize this makes this fic completely uninteresting to pretty much everyone but me.)
> 
> Since this work is orphaned and I can't give permission for anything, here is my blanket permission JUST IN CASE: Do whatever the hell you want with this fic. Download it. Podfic it. Write a continuation. Be my guest.)

Edward was still reeling. Last night he had gone to bed deliriously happy, thinking that not only had he met the love of his life, he also happened to be already engaged to her.

Only to have the rug pulled out from under him this morning.

“Are you _sure_ about Stacy?”, Kevin asked him, a smile tugging at his lips, as they were camping out in somebody’s dressing room backstage, waiting for security to clear out an exit for them. “She is kind of a handful.”

They looked over to where Stacy was not only talking to their airline on _her_ cell phone, but was also simultaneously looking up other flight connections and organizing a stand-in for the bakery on _Kevin’s_ phone, which she had forced him to hand over.

How he adored her.

“More and more sure,” Edward replied.

Meanwhile, Olivia was instructing Margaret how to cut out paper snowflakes, but Margaret had started cutting out hearts instead. When she noticed Kevin’s gaze on her she coyly blew him a kiss, which he caught with a wink.

“I should have noticed immediately something was off, but, I mean, come on. Who would ever suspect something like _this_ going on?”, Kevin said.

Edward nodded, his face pensive. “Yes, they seem like very different people in many respects.”

“Edward,” Stacy called over.

“Yes, darling,” he said, his whole body turning towards her.

Olivia giggled and mouthed ‘darling’ at Margaret, holding two of the cut out paper hearts over her eyes.

“Do you think a week enough time to sort some of this mess out?” Stacy asked. “We have to talk to your parents and the press and a lot of apologies have to be made to all the people I deceived-"

“ _We_ deceived,” Margaret corrected. Her voice was soft but firm. “Let’s not forget that this was my idea and I should be the one making apologies to their Majesties and the people of Belgravia and Montenaro.”

Stacy smiled. “Oh no, we are in this together all the way. And I was the one actively doing the lying to their faces, so…”

“A week will almost certainly be enough time to make apologies and give explanations,” Edward replied. “We are lucky that the whirlwind of Christmas will distract the public at least somewhat from the, ah,” he swallowed, “spectacle that just occurred in the studio.”

The apples of Stacy’s cheeks turned an ever so slight pink. Edward was afraid that his might be doing the same.

Kevin smirked at the two of them and leaned back with a sigh. “I’m just thankful that Olivia and I can stay out of this and be home for Christmas. Which reminds me that we have to get going soon, sweetie, if we want to catch our flight.”

“No, Dad, please! Why can’t we stay longer, too?”, his daughter begged, clutching at Margaret and motioning at Stacy who had just confirmed the rescheduling of her own flight home.

“Because your grandparents want to see you for Christmas and I have a bakery to run in the _owner_ ’s absence,” he replied.

“Sorry!” said owner winced, handing Kevin’s phone back to him. “I know it’s a lot to ask _literally_ right before Christmas. But Melinda already agreed to help out for two and a half days - check your calendar, I already added the tentative schedule - and we’ll be closed on the 25th, so if I can get Jerry to-“

“No worries, Stace, I can handle it. I was just teasing you.”

While Olivia and Kevin were making their heartfelt goodbyes and see-you-soons with Margaret, who’d be visiting them in Chicago as soon as she could, Stacy turned to Edward.

“Are you sure your parents will be all right with me staying at the palace for the week? Maybe I should organize some alternative accommodation just in case.”

Edward took her hand and threaded their fingers together. “I won’t take no for an answer, so they will have no choice but to agree. We clearly have the room. Besides,” he kissed the back of her hand softly, “I want to spend Christmas with you.”

“I want to spend Christmas with you, too,” she whispered. “But I’m also scared.”

“Scared? About what?”

“What if you realize that this was all a big mistake? That you don’t actually like _me_ , Stacy, the baker from Chicago? You know nothing about me. Maybe who you _actually_ like is Stacy, pretending to be Margaret, a duchess whose history you’re at least _acquainted_ with. Like, even though I didn’t do a great job at being dignified, I make _even less of an effort_ to be dignified in real life. And I don’t dress like how I did yesterday, ever. This,” she motioned at her outfit and messy hair, “is kind of how I look like most of the time.”

He nodded thoughtfully and made a big show of inspecting her. He lifted the hand that was not holding hers and ran it along a slightly frizzy strand of hair.

Having finished his inspection, he nodded decisively and declared: “I rather like how you look. You are exceedingly charming like this.”

Stacy spluttered. “Like this? Are you kidding? I just spent several hours baking a gigantic cake under hot studio lights. I am a mess. Please, Edward, be serious.”

“I am very serious, I’m afraid. The last two days felt like a dream. But today finally feels real to me. _You_ finally feel real to me. How could I possibly he displeased?” he murmured.

She pressed a soft kiss against his lips, her fingers brushing his cheek. The simple gesture felt like she had cracked open his _soul_. He wondered if her kisses would always wreck him like this.

They pulled away slowly, Edward twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. “I love how soft your hair is like this. It was all… stiff yesterday.”

Now she couldn’t help but laugh. “You can thank the duchess’ hairspray for that. Apparently, it’s mandatory to the royal beauty regiment. But I don’t usually touch the stuff.”

“Good,” he said and bent down to kiss her again.

“Excuse the interruption,” Kevin said, “but can a guy say goodbye to his best friend for a second?”

Stacy immediately pulled away from her prince to give Kevin a hug.

“Have a safe flight home, you two! I’ll see you soon, yeah? Thanks again for looking after the bakery.” She broke away from Kevin, to do her secret handshake with Olivia.

Edward stifled a laugh, as the two called out their signature “Ey!”. She waved after them as they closed the door behind them.

“That was very cute,” he informed her, putting his arm around her.

“Yes, well, she is my goddaughter. He is like the brother I never had, so his daughter is really important to me, too. Oh!” She hesitated for a second. When had it become stranger to tell the truth than a lie? “I should probably tell you that, unlike Margaret, I don’t have a brother and my parents aren’t dead either. Just… divorced and too busy to bother with me.”

“I’m sorry, that must be difficult for you,” he said.

They sat down on a loveseat in the corner of the dressing room. She leaned her head against his shoulder, before answering.

“No, it’s okay, really. They grew apart and it’s not like they both don’t still love me. I am actually a little sadder about the fact that I feel so strongly about you and know these facts about you, like your age and your parents’ names and… I couldn’t share anything about _me_ with you.”

He gave her a mock-suspicious glance. “Why, Miss De Novo, how old are you?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Turns out I am a year older than our dear duchess. I’m twenty-nine, actually.”

“Ah, well, still two years younger than me.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “I, for one, am planning on using this week with you to find out as much about you as I possibly can. I will be the world’s leading expert on Stacy De Novo by the time you return to Chicago.”

At that moment, Mrs. Donatelli entered the room.

“They are ready to escort the three of you out of the venue now. A vehicle is waiting at one of the emergency exits to take to three of you to the palace. Their Majesties are already awaiting you,” she informed them.

“Thank you, Mrs. Donatelli,” Margaret replied, before following her out the door.

“Here goes nothing,” Stacy said, as Edward helped her out of the loveseat.

 

* * *

 

They were about to reach the palace and Stacy couldn’t seem to keep her hands still. Edward reached over and put his hand over both her hers, pinning them in place.

She smiled at him gratefully.

“Don’t worry, Stacy,” Margaret told her, “I will strive to deflect as much blame from you as possible.”

Stacy shook her head. “So not happening. If I want to be with Edward-” He gave her hands a squeeze at the words, “I have to try to clear the air and convince them to give me a chance, despite what I did.”

The limousine came to a halt before the palace entrance. Mr. De Luca opened the doors for them, giving Stacy a reassuring smile.

Unbeknownst to them, the queen was watching from a window above. She noted as what looked to be the duchess left the car, talking quietly with her companion, Mrs. Donatelli.

Queen Caroline gripped the curtain tighter with her rising anticipation.

Following the duchess, her son exited the vehicle. Caroline held her breath. He looked looser than she had ever seen him before. Something in him had shifted.

_Oh, please_!, she begged silently.

Then Edward reached back into the car and another woman stepped out, her hair loosely pulled back, wearing casual clothes unfit for an audience with royalty. Stacy De Novo.

At first, it might have looked like Edward had only reached for her hand to assist her out the vehicle. But even once the car doors had closed behind them, he held her hand tight, changing his grip to thread their fingers together. She was looking at the palace doors, but he was looking at her.

Caroline clapped her hands together and smiled. Startling the staff around her, she immediately rushed down the stairs towards the entrance parlor and flung the doors open herself.

(The doormen looked positively appalled at her lack of decorum.)

She ignored the shock on everyone’s faces. “You brought her back!” She walked right up to Edward and Stacy laid her hands on each of their shoulders. “I was worried sick that your little mess wouldn’t work itself out.”

“Mother,” Edward still seemed to be gathering himself, “…you- you knew?”

“Oh, darling, not the whole time, of course,” she replied. She turned around and walked back into the palace, with all the natural confidence of someone who knew that their lead would be followed. “Frank was gracious enough to share the information he discovered this morning. How I ached for you, my dear.”

Stacy shot Edward a confused look. He shook his head as if to say ‘I don’t know either’. Stacy looked back at Margaret, but she seemed too lost in thought to notice.

They reached the king and queen’s private chambers. A member of staff opened the door for the queen and she walked inside, motioning for everyone to follow.

Their private parlor was large, luxurious and yet, homey. Red velvet sofas surrounded a beautifully crafted coffee table. The king was already seated on one, the deep lines of his face felt foreboding to Stacy.

“George!” the queen exclaimed. “Edward returned with his Miss De Novo.”

“Yes, it does seem so.” He mustered Stacy from afar, his gaze falling on their entwined hands.

She tried to release Edward’s hand, but he refused to let go. He simply held her hand securely, all the while never breaking gaze with his father.

Stacy decided to curtsy anyway, occupied hand and all. “Hello, your Majesty.”

Margaret stepped forth to perform a deep curtsy. “Your Majesties.”

King George sighed. “Please, be seated, all of you. My wife has explained some of the story, such as the fact that we’ve had an imposter on our hands for the last two days,” he looked at Stacy, “but much is still left to be discussed.”

Margaret took a seat on an armchair, while Edward all but pulled Stacy into the loveseat across from the king and queen. As the duchess arranged her skirt neatly, the king immediately noticed the lack of ornament on her finger.

“Am I safe to assume that the engagement is off then?” King George asked.

Edward and Margaret looked at one another. How to explain the magnitude of change that had occurred?

“Oh, of course, the engagement is off, George!” Caroline said, “Didn’t I mention that your son fell in love? A marriage to the duchess is out of the question at this point.”

“Lady Margaret is inclined to agree,” Mrs. Donatelli added, “she is also no longer amenable to marrying the prince and would like to forge a new path in life more in line with her own desires.”

“Ah,” King George observed the assembled party, “and you are the one who provoked this change?” His piercing gaze was directed at Stacy.

“Your Majesty, I never intended for any of this to happen. I thought I was going to do an incredibly unlikely favor for Margaret, experience a once-in-a-lifetime event, participate in the competition and then go home, having had a _really_ memorable trip. But then…" She looked over at her prince. “Edward decided to stick around and foil our carefully laid plans. And I got in _way_ over my head and got all intense about everything, like I always do. Suddenly, I really wanted it all to be true. I’m really sorry I lied and disrupted your lives like this.”

“I’m not,” Edward immediately interjected. “I’m grateful you crossed paths with Lady Margaret that day. I’m grateful you started to care too much to hide your true character. And above all, I’m _grateful_ your perfect plan got foiled and that you’re not on a plane to Chicago right now, with me being none the wiser.”

“Quite the declaration there, son,” George said dryly, but a smile was tugging on his lips. “Very well. The wedding is off then, so you may pursue your Miss De Novo. But damage control will need to be done.”

Margaret spoke up. “Please allow me to apologize, as well, your Majesty. To be quite honest, I was dreading marrying Edward but was willing to fulfill my duty. When I met Stacy, I knew I could use her to get a taste of the freedom I never had. I’ve never been cut out for a life of monarchy - clearly, considering the main reason I even agreed to this alliance was to gracefully relinquish my claim on the Montenaren throne to my brother and step into somebody else’s shadow.[1] I sincerely hope that our countries and families will continue to have good relations in the future, despite my abhorrent behavior and the trouble I have brought you.”

“Are you still planning on stepping down?” George asked.

Margaret and Mrs. Donatelli exchanged a glance. The older woman nodded encouragingly.

“Yes,” Margaret replied, “My brother will make a wonderful duke. I am prepared to relinquish all of my titles in order to live a normal life.”

“Untangling this entire affair gracefully is going to be quite the headache, I am afraid,” George sighed. “since much of the cat is already out of the bag. After Edward’s public declaration, the news that the prince is in love with an American commoner, who is the duchess’ doppelgänger, has spread like wildfire. Luckily, Mrs. Da Silva has been able to keep the actual footage under wraps, likely never to see the light of day.”

“Mrs. Da Silva?”, Stacy repeated to Edward.

He leaned closer to her. “The royal publicist and PR expert. She is very good at what she does. Since the baking competition is produced by a government-funded broadcasting corporation, she has a lot of pull.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t mean the many witnesses aren’t allowed to talk about it,” the king said.

“So we need to a press conference or public interview sooner rather than later, so that we are the ones controlling the narrative,” Stacy concluded.

Suddenly, she felt the surprised gazes of everyone around her.

She refused to feel self-conscious surrounded by royalty trained from infancy to be in the public eye. “What? My father is a photojournalist who spends all his time traveling to war-torn and politically tense areas. I know a little something about the subject of public perception,” she said.

"...and a little something about foreign policy," Edward thought out loud, his mind busy putting together some of the pieces that constituted the woman he loved.

“We should call in Mrs. Da Silva to hear how she suggests we move forward,” the king said, “but before that, I would like to know what you two are planning to do. A baker from Chicago and the crown prince of a European nation need a lot of compromise to make a relationship work.”

“We haven’t really discussed the details yet,” Stacy answered. “But… I love Edward. I am willing to do what it takes to give this a real shot.”

“Even give up your bakery? I have read it does very well. It must have taken a lot of hard work. Are you willing to move to Belgravia? Give up your identity to become queen?”

Stacy was taken aback. “I-… your Majesty-“

“I would never ask that of her, father,” Edward interrupted. “Grandmother was an unconventional queen and she was, and still is, a beloved figure across the country. Please, we want to try and figure this out ourselves. In our own way.”

Stacy nodded, clutching Edward’s hand.

King George sighed. “Very well. Frank, please fetch Mrs. Da Silva.”

Mrs. Da Silva turned out to be a prim, middle-aged businesswoman with stern features.

She curtsied. “Good afternoon, your Majesties, your Highness, your Grace.”

Then her eyes fell on Stacy. “And you must be Miss De Novo.” Her smile was small but sincere. “The resemblance is remarkable.”

She took a seat. “Now, you must tell me the whole story, I need to know who was involved and who knows what. I need to know about everything _Miss De Novo-as-duchess_ did and who she interacted with, as well as what _the duchess-as-Miss De Novo_ was doing. I also need to be aware of how you would like to proceed in the future, so we know what goal we are working towards."

Stacy and Margaret relayed their whole story, Edward and his parents interjecting important details when needed.

With every word out of Stacy’s mouth, Mrs. Da Silva’s serious demeanor melted away more and more.

“What a story!” she relished when they had concluded. Her eyes were glowing with enthusiasm. “True love, a charming Christmas setting, a prince falling in love with a normal woman from America? The _public_ will certainly adore it. We will need to contact the shelter, a displeased word from them and public opinion could sway. I am a little concerned about all the people at the ball Miss De Novo interacted with, they might not enjoy having been deceived, we will want to consult a political advisor on how to handle them. Are you very sure that you will want to pursue a romantic relationship?”

Edward’s thumb caressed the back of Stacy’s hand. “Very sure.”

“Because should your relationship fizzle out quickly, public opinion could turn sour and your character and maturity might be questioned. They might think ‘ _All this drama for nothing_ ’.”

“I am planning on marrying Stacy if she will have me,” he replied, lifting up her hand to gently press his lips against it. Stacy blushed brightly.

Mrs. Da Silva almost swooned. “Oh, the public will not be able to get enough of you two, I can already tell. Now, I am somewhat worried about how we should spin your Grace’s actions,” She turned to Margaret, “If we are not careful it would be very easy for people to perceive you as flighty, immature or selfish. Though the “princess longing for normalcy”-narrative is tried and true, it does not always come across so well in real life. Also, and I hate to paint you this way, your Grace, while Miss De Novo was unattached and free to fall for the prince, you were very much an engaged woman, seemingly wanting to live it up during her last few days of freedom.”

“That’s not at all what Margaret is like,” Stacy protested, “Is there anything we can do to save her reputation?”

The PR expert pursed her lips. “Certainly. ‘Walking the walk’, will go a long way. Giving up the title, not getting in any further scandals, not being seen with a string of men, possibly settling down with Mr. Richards, all of these things will help sell the duchess’ sincerity. In addition, if your Majesties and your Highness are willing to vouch for the duchess’ character, that would count for a lot.”

“Naturally we would,” the queen assured. “Isn’t that so, my dear?”

The king seemed less enthused but nodded in agreement.

“Am I correct to assume that the Montenaren advisors will be doing damage control as well?”, Mrs. Da Silva asked.

Mrs. Donatelli nodded. “Yes, with the duchess’ consent, I have already contacted Prince Marcus, as well as a few of the royal advisors.”

“Of course, if you would give me their contact details? It is in both of our interest to work together in this case, to spin a coherent narrative.”

“Naturally,” Mrs. Donatelli rose from her chair to hand Mrs. Da Silva a few documents.

“Wonderful. I will convene with the Montenaren advisors and settle on a story. With any luck, we’ll be able to put out a statement by tonight that satisfies all parties. If you will excuse me, your Majesties?”

The king dismissed her with a nod.

Stacy wanted to slouch in her seat, she was so exhausted from the events of the day, but forced herself to keep her back straight in front of the king and queen.

“Mother, father, I was hoping we would be able to accommodate Stacy here in the palace for the duration of her stay,” Edward said after Mrs. Da Silva had left.

“I don’t see why not. Let me get the staff to prepare a suite for her. How long is she thinking about staying?” Caroline asked, not even bothering to hide her delight.

“About a week. I hope that’s enough time,” Stacy said.

“Splendid. I am thrilled you had the forethought to stay a little while longer. The situation would have surely gotten dragged out had you left for Chicago.” With that, the queen rose, squeezed Stacy’s shoulder as she walked past and left the room to do some preparations.

“I am going to take this moment to call my brother and talk to him myself. It is way past due,” Margaret said. She curtsied beautifully to King George, before leaving with Mrs. Donatelli in tow.

George observed the only other two people left for a moment, before saying: “Well? Be off then! Surely, you’d like to take a few minutes alone? I doubt you two have had any privacy at all.”

Edward laughed and got up. “Thank you, father. Have Frank fetch us when we are needed.”

He assisted Stacy out of her seat and pulled her along. She tugged at his hand to make him stop, in order to formally curtsy to the king. “Thank you so much, your Majesty.”

George shook his head and smiled as they left the room.

 

* * *

 

“No carriage drive? No ride through the countryside? Just straight to your room this time?” Stacy teased when Edward closed the door behind them.

Edward’s chambers were much cooler in color and slightly less neat than his parents’. Documents laid strewn about a desk in the corner. Stacy was oddly surprised to see a large TV hanging on the wall. An open book lay on the corner of the sofa.

“Oh, I would have loved to take you back to my chambers for some time alone yesterday, as well. I just didn’t know how to arrange it.” He put his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

He smelled like pine trees and horses and really expensive aftershave. She grasped at his shoulders, as her knees literally went weak. His kiss was warm and demanding and made her insides _melt._ Pulling him even closer, so not even a bee could squeeze between their bodies, she coaxed his mouth open with her tongue. Liquid heat ran through her veins as his tongue met hers.

Only a few moments later, he pulled away, but couldn’t help continuing pecking her lips

“God,” he pressed a quick kiss against her lips, “have mercy with me.”

An unbidden laugh burst out of Stacy’s throat. It had been _that_ kind of day. She leaned against his chest, her hands grasping at his pristine black shirt, as she was overcome with the giggles.

Edward smiled, his thumb caressing her back. “What’s so funny, darling?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. I’m just happy. And yesterday, when we said goodnight I was so _unhappy_. The whiplash, you know?”

He pressed a kiss against her forehead. Then he let go of her to retrieve something from his desk.

“Speaking of yesterday... you left something behind,” he said and handed her a red velvet box.

She held her breath and opened it to find exactly what she was expecting.

His grandmother’s necklace.

Tears sprung in her eyes.

“It’s not very good manners to regift a present,” he said dryly. He lifted a hand to wipe a tear from her cheek. “Were you... were you really going to leave without it? I gave it to _you_.”

“You know I couldn’t keep it. You’d have been expecting Margaret to wear it. I couldn’t keep anything from our time together, really,” First laughing, now crying. She had completely lost her grip on her emotions. “On the way to the studio, I saw some gossip rag on a stand with a picture of us on the front page. _Us_ us. At the ball charity ball. I was going to pick it up at the airport to take home with me.”

Suddenly, his strong arms surrounded her as he crushed her to his chest. “I’m so glad that is not our reality. I can’t stand the thought of it. I almost lost you.”

They enjoyed being in each other's arms for a few long moments.

While Stacy leaned against his chest, she began petting the soft velvet of the jewelry box. “Thank you for giving my crest back to me. I couldn’t care less about the tiara, but handing the necklace over to Mrs. Donatelli killed me,” she confessed. “I wanted to keep it so bad.”

Edward released her from the confines of his arm in order to gingerly take the necklace out of its box. After giving Stacy a gentle kiss, he fastened it around her neck.

“There. Veritas. Anoris. Amare. Truth, honor and,” he lifted up her chin, to look her in the eyes, “love. I love you, Stacy.”

“And I love you,” she said, tears threatening to fall again. She fell into his arms once again.

“I am glad the crest meant as much to you as it did to me,” Edward said, “otherwise demanding Margaret return it to me before we even left for Wembley, might seem like an overreaction in hindsight.”

Stacy giggled.

“But the thought of her having it when she wasn’t you… I couldn’t stand it, even for a second.”

“Edward…” She took a step back from him, her eyes wandering from his face to his chest. She put her hands on the waistband of his slacks, her thumb sliding in to brush back and forth.

He was so _solid_. She loved that about him. Biting her lip, she asked, “how much time do we have until they need us back, you think?”

“Not _nearly_ enough time,” Edward replied regretfully and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I orphaned this work, because even though I don't want anyone reading this, it's WEIRD to have a finished little fanfic just sitting there and NOT publishing it. So I published it and then tossed it far away to never look at again!
> 
> 1 Edward mentions in the movie that Margaret's father was the “Grand Duke of Montenaro”, which means that Montenaro is a Grand Duchy, like Luxembourg. A Grand Duke is like a king of a small country. He is the reigning monarch. His children have the titles of prince and princess. Which means that if her father is dead and Margaret is now referred to as “Duchess of Montenaro”, that _she_ must, in fact, be the Grand Duchess of Montenaro herself.  
> If an older sibling had inherited the throne, she’d just be Princess Margaret (or maybe Princess Margaret, Duchess of [a county or region], but that’s less likely since she is unmarried), you get me?  
> It makes no sense for a Grand Duchess to marry a prince who’s first in line to his own throne. She’s a reigning monarch herself, she’d marry someone who’d join her in HER country and become her consort. Not become someone’s consort herself.  
> But I am pretty satisfied with what I came up with to fix it. It also makes sense for her character to long for somebody else to hide behind. [return to text]


End file.
